


fear is the brightest of signs

by waxrose



Category: Arashi (Band)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-07 05:00:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3162149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waxrose/pseuds/waxrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love is muscle memory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally requested as part of the [Japan earthquake fundraiser](http://arashi-on.livejournal.com/3747412.html?thread=40799060#t40799060) at arashi_on@LJ, for blufox-o7. It's been start and stop so many times over the years, and this was written across four years and three countries. Better late than never? I hope that you enjoy this, and that it's close to what you wanted! 
> 
> This will be in two parts, and I'm about 50% finished the second part, but I've decided to post this first in order to force myself to commit to getting this done soon! The title comes from _Harbour_ by Vienna Teng.

EXT. SMALL PARK IN FRONT OF A HOSPITAL (SUNSET)

Katsushima Hiromu is sitting on a bench, holding a picture.

 **KATSUSHIMA HIROMU:** _Falling in love is muscle memory. It isn't something you can do consciously. If you overthink it, some part inside of you knows that you are acting. When it's real, your heart leaps into action by instinct. You can't control it. Your heart remembers how to fall in love._

_Still, like every muscle, time and disuse can dull memory. There's an American saying, isn't there? "If you don't use it, you lose it."_

_It's hard to describe how it feels when you suddenly realize you're incapable of what used to seem so natural. You reach with all of your strength, try to twist everything into place, but it doesn't work. You've never had to think through the mechanics of it before._

They might have forgotten to lock the door, but Nino has more important things to care about, with Ohno was on his knees in front of him, sucking him off torturously slow like the entire thing was some fucking process of discovery. 

It's not that Nino doesn't appreciate the effort, but they only have a short break. They haven't had time for more than a few rushed handjobs in spare moments recently. Maybe Ohno was going elsewhere, but Nino doubts it from the way that Ohno had pushed him firmly into the deserted room, backing Nino up against the table with a look of determination.

Ohno slides his mouth off Nino's cock, keeping a hand firmly on the base while he ducks to nuzzle and lick at Nino's balls. Nino holds his breath, gripping the edge of the table in an effort to stay quiet – he's never really vocal anyways, but this is a lot more public than he's comfortable with. Ohno's mouth returns to his cock, mouth open around the head. It's too loose to really be good, but the heat is tantalizing. 

Nino hisses before he can stop himself, and Ohno draws back, glancing up playfully. "It's been awhile, huh?"

Nino loses his patience. "Get up here." He helps Ohno haul himself to his feet, and Ohno hums in acquiesce, grabbing onto Nino's waist for purchase. They're both pretty much clothed on top, but Nino's pants and underwear have been pushed down around his knees. Ohno is still wearing his underwear, but he can't be comfortable. He's hard now, rocking against Nino as he sucks on Nino's neck, biting his chin playfully.

They really don't have much time – Nino isn't sure if he's disappointed that they never have time for more than a quick fuck in deserted rooms that belong to neither of them, or grateful that this spares them the awkward expanse of time when they might actually have to talk about _why_ this keeps happening.

This has always been easy for him with Ohno. Maybe too easy, but Nino won't complain. He drags down Ohno's fly, fingers slipping up to pop open the button of his jeans. He can feel the warm shape of Ohno's cock against his underwear, curving up to meet Nino's hand. Ohno groans, pressing his hand into Nino's lower back as Nino pulls down Ohno's underwear, his cock bobbing up past the waistband, already wet at the tip.

"Oh-chan," Nino whispers. He's got Ohno in hand now, and he's almost dizzy with how close he is. It's been _weeks_ since they even came close to being able to do this, and Nino would be lying if he hadn't been dreaming about jerking Ohno off, making him twitch and grind against him. 

He doesn't care if they don't have time; he wants Ohno to fuck him against the uncomfortable wood of the creaky table, the thick push of Ohno's cock driving into him and filling him up – 

"Sho-kun," Ohno whispers suddenly, and Nino stares dumbly the shock on Ohno's face before even thinking to turn and follow Ohno's eyes to the open doorway, where the light spilling in from the hallway is just enough to illuminate the room dimly.

Sho himself is backlit by the light, but there's a clear horror in his expression. 

"I was looking for – I," he fumbles, completely at a loss, embarrassed. He isn't even the one with his pants around his ankles. "I'm sorry."

"We'll be out soon," Ohno says firmly, and Nino is struck by Ohno's calm. 

"Right," Sho says, seemingly ungluing himself from the spot, backing up. "No problem. I'll, uh, shut the door, okay?" 

In any other situation, Nino would have killed himself laughing – he always loves Sho's embarrassment. Now, with Ohno's cock sticky and softening in his hand, aware of his bare legs and crotch with a startling new discomfort, he can't bring himself past the shock.

Ohno helps Nino tuck himself back into his underwear and fasten his jeans. He kisses Nino slowly, briefly. "Sho won't say anything."

"Sorry," Nino says, not sure why he's apologizing when it was Ohno who dragged him in here, Sho who opened the door – somehow, taking blame makes it all seem easier.

"It's doesn't matter," Ohno says with easy conviction. He scrunches his fingers in Nino's hair, and kisses Nino again. Nino is humiliated to find how easily he clings to Ohno, just as his heart latches onto Ohno's assertions. 

+

To put it plainly, their relationship – Arashi's relationship – is just not normal.

The magazines eat it up, the fans prize it and the industry encourages it –or rather, demands it. It's the grey spaces that people want to see, those wavering lines between what is professional and what is their own.

Most of the time, it happens on camera, and that's fine. Nino isn't blind enough to deny where their fame comes from. Conversely, he's proud. He's proud that they are 'more' than his co-workers. He's proud that he can casually touch or laugh with the people he works with, and they respond – genuinely and warmly. They get along, and more than that, they _belong_ together. 

But sometimes, those lines get a little too blurry. They are bent too far, blending the colours of professional and personal into a fingerpaint mess. They've all been there. When you don't consider someone just a 'co-worker', what's the next step? 

It can go any which direction, Nino knows. There are often no names or convenient boxes of emotions to sort your feelings in. He's let Aiba cry himself to sleep on his shoulder. He's fucked Jun – just once, and Jun has shown no signs of ever wanting to talk about it. They've shown each other vulnerabilities and ugly sides that someone who is your 'colleague' should ever see. Sho distances himself more than the rest of them, but Nino has seen enough to know that everything is not quite as perfect as it seems.

As for Ohno – Nino gave up trying to affix labels to that relationship years ago. Once things get messy, it's always harder to bother cleaning up. 

"Is this really a good idea?" Fujiwara asks, tapping his pen against the table. It's nearly midnight, and the room is damply hot, despite the hum of rotating fans trying to dispel the late August heat. "I don't mean to question your judgment, but the critics and the media will play this up like you just picked him to play the lead because you're in the same group. What are we going to say?"

"The truth," Nino says, settling back in his chair. His back is killing him, and he wants this casting meeting – and this day – to be over with. "I picked the actor who's most suited for the part. That's all they need to know."

The table is silent, many of the staff staring down at the table, shuffling papers. It kind of annoys Nino. Did they all think that was how he was planning to direct this movie? 

"This could work to our advantage, though," Kawashima, his PR head, speaks up. "A movie directed by Arashi's Ninomiya Kazunari, the main lead acted by another Arashi member – it has potential to draw a lot of attention."

Nino unscrews the cap on his water bottle, staying quiet as murmurs of agreement echo around the table.

It was obvious that he couldn't escape this being tied back to Arashi. If he succeeds, Arashi will gain; if he fails, Arashi will lose. It's just another reason to work hard, as always. There's no time to be selfish.

+

"Did you know Ohno was going to audition?" is the first thing that Jun asks when Nino picks up his call an hour later.

"No," Nino replies truthfully. He grabs a beer from the fridge, sitting down on the couch, his towel still damp and heavy around his neck. 

"I was out drinking with our manager, and he got a message from your staff," Jun continues. "That's how I found out."

Nino rubs his forehead. He can't figure out if Jun approves of the whole thing from his tone, and frankly, he doesn't care. "I'm going to go to sleep now."

""Did you feel like you couldn't turn him down?" Jun sounds hesitant. "Are you doing this for Arashi?"

"I do everything for Arashi," Nino says, and that's also the truth, for all of them. "He was _good_ , J. You know he is. That's all."

It isn't that simple, of course. Nino knows that, but it's enough to get Jun to let up on him for tonight. He's got a meeting with the scriptwriters in the morning, and he needs to look awake and professional. He can only be taken so seriously by riding on Arashi's coat tails, and his own acting credits. 

+

When you are young, you think that you will wake up someday and suddenly like drinking coffee and wine, going to a job that was waiting for you. You think that you'll read the newspapers every morning, and maybe smoke like your father did, and get married to the perfect girl who stumbles across your path someday – somehow. There will be a dog, and children, but the whole picture is a little fuzzy around the edges. 

This is all assumed, and maybe it will become true, but how it all comes together is a little messier. Adulthood is a process, not a passageway.

Nino smoked for the first time when he's fourteen, beginning the sloppy grey slide from child to adult with his first drag and cough. He started drinking coffee to stay awake through long night practice sessions before their debut. He didn't really like the taste, but the effects are enough. These experiences – and others – each time, make him feel the faintest sensation of being somehow stronger, more mature.

Obviously, years later, he knows that it's not all coffee and cigarettes and eating takeout on the couch with no one complaining that makes him an adult. And there are still be times when he feels stupid and young, and has absolutely no sense of how to pin down the path of his life. Arashi is a guidepost and a flag to clutch to, but it can't be everything.

When Nino hit thirty-three, he felt entirely indifferent about it. Past thirty, nothing beyond forty looks quite like old age. Arashi spends less time together – two weekly shows become one show, two or three members at a time. There are dramas, and singles, and commercials, but eventually they only see each other every four or five days.

Nino got the usual semi-official 'permission' to start thinking about marriage (without obstructing his contractual duties, of course, and no tabloid photos, please) when he hit thirty, and it's kind of funny how he would have killed to have that kind of freedom ten or fifteen years before, but now he can hardly be bothered to even make an effort.

It had been a frigid March day earlier this year – Arashi's nineteenth year – when Nino's manager unceremoniously dropped the script on his lap.

"They're looking for more than an actor," his manager clarified, while Nino grumbled and massaged his crotch – it was a fairly heavy book, for a script. "Isn't it about time to chase other dreams?"

Of course, his manager isn't his mother, and Nino isn't about to rise to any sort of well-meaning needling about being a layabout – in idol terms, of course, which means pulling only 14-hour days instead of 17 or 18. Aiba has his marriage, Ohno is choreographing, Jun is organizing concerts for their juniors, and Sho keeps talking about making a quixotic tilt at politics. It could only be a running gag for so long for Nino to answer interviewer's questions about what he'd been doing lately with "enjoying my free time at home."

If he's honest, he went along with it at first mostly to please everyone else at first. He's never been the ambitious sort – he burned all that energy out in his early days, with grandiose dreams of running away, quitting Johnny's, going to America and being recognized as incipient genius. Arashi tied him down like a kite – he can still soar higher than he could ever imagine, but he knows that his string is tied firmly to theirs. 

After reading the script, though, he found himself unconsciously reaching for a pencil, scribbling notes as he envisioned images in his head. He's never actually tried this before, but he feels like he can just _feel_ how to translate the words into movement – he wonders if this is what Matsujun feels when he stares down a set list, or when Ohno is tapping his fingers along to a new song he has to choreograph.

They're all such talented people, really. Nino would hate to disappoint any of them by being any less. Now that he's committed to this project, all he can do is keep moving forward.

+

Sho is late for the lunch date that he had set up with Nino and Aiba, but Sho is frequently late these days. 

Nino has known Sho for a long time, and he would be lying if he said he hadn't seen this 'politics' thing looming in the distance for years. It's in Sho's nature, both good and bad – he seeks avenues to make a difference, and he is competitive, sometimes to the point of being controlling. 

It's still unclear exactly what this whole business would mean for Arashi – it's hard to imagine an elected representative dancing and singing on stage in gaudy costumes – it's hard to imagine him even having the time for that. Nino knows that the higher-ups at the agency have asked Sho to wait, to give it a few years, until they're all older, and there is time.

Nino dislikes the idea of Sho leaving Arashi, even temporarily. They have always been five, and none of them are replaceable. Even if holding Sho back is the selfish thing to do – 

They've never asked each other to give up dreams, but shelving them for a little while is nothing new. Nino is sure that none of them have asked because, at some level, they're afraid of the possibility of Sho saying 'no'.

Aiba slides into the chair opposite Nino in a heavy thump of limbs, grabbing a napkin from the table to wipe sweat off his forehead. "I'm not late," he says preemptively, "You're early. And Sho is later than me. What did you order?"

"You are late," Nino says automatically. "Check your stupid watch."

"I've stopped wearing one," Aiba says, showing off his bare wrist. "Yuki says that worrying about being on time causes stress. We're trying to live without watches this week."

"I'm sure your manager is going to appreciate that." Aiba's wife is kind of crazy. Sometimes it seems like Aiba signed up for an extreme-sports challenge version of marriage. He seems happy, though – he's in love, and they make it work, somehow. That's probably enough. Nino's not really in a place to criticize anyone's relationship.

"So, I heard from Jun," Aiba says, fingers drumming on the table top, "Ohno's starring in your movie?"

"He hasn't accepted it yet." Nino pushes a menu at him. "Unofficially, however – yes."

Aiba opens the menu, flipping through the pages. "I know that sleeping with the director is a good way to get the part, but…" 

Of course it's just a joke, but if Sho were on time like he was supposed to be, he would probably hit Aiba for being tactless. Of course Aiba doesn't know. Or Jun. Nino wonders sometimes if Sho might just explode from all this _not-talking-about-it_ one day. He's debated a million ways to initiate a conversation that inevitably leads to "so, about that time that you walked in on Leader and I fucking…" – but well, when it comes down to it, Nino is a coward. 

"He performed _very_ well," Nino says lewdly, wiggling his eyebrows.

Aiba laughs. "I wouldn't expect anything less from Leader."

"You could do a cameo," Nino says, carrying the joke. "Ohno's character gets a lot of action; writing in a threesome wouldn't be implausible –"

"Leader would do it," Aiba says confidently. "I'd maybe do it, but the managers would want to know exactly how much skin we're talking about…"

"How are your tan lines?"

Aiba's eyes crinkle at the corners. "Do any of us actually have time for that?" 

"Do we have time for this?" Nino checks his own well-equipped wrist for the time. "He's got 20 minutes, seriously. He's the one who invited us to lunch."

"We'll just make him pay," Aiba says. "Oh! I brought you a picture." He rummages in his bag, and then pushes a slightly wrinkled sheet of paper across the table to Nino. "Mami wanted to draw Uncle Kazu last night."

Nino examines the lopsided blob of his face, the scrawled triangular eyes and the three hairs poking out from the top of his head. "Are you sure she's not actually Sho's kid? This kind of talent is probably genetic."

"Well," Aiba's brow furrows comically. "He and Yuki did spend a lot of time together shopping for baby clothes…"

"Wasn't she already pregnant then?"

"Yeah, but it's like a mental pregnancy thing –" Aiba leans forward, eager to explain, but he gets cut off by the familiar _dee-dee-doot-doot_ of Nino's phone. "Hm, that's probably Sho-chan now."

 _Can't make it_ , Sho's message says, the bare characters brisk and harried. _Really sorry_.

Nino clicks his phone shut. "Lunch is on you," he announces graciously.

"No way," Aiba groans. "You lured me here just for that." He picks up the menu again and starts flipping through seriously this time, silently mouthing out the katakana to himself.

There are two unread messages on Nino's phone – he must have missed them while he was listening to music on the way over to the café. He thumbs the touch screen until the small boxes expand.

The production manager's message is short, but it sets off an alarming swell in Nino's chest. _He's accepted. Press conference tomorrow, 0800. Van will pick you up at 0600._

Ohno's brief _Please take care of me_ is accompanied by a picture of a hot dog-shaped alarm clock. Nino taps open the reply box, but his mind is a perfect blank, and nothing seems quite flippant or witty enough.

"It isn't like Sho-kun to not show up," Aiba says, and Nino realizes that Aiba has finished perusing the menu, and is watching him instead. He's looking a little too carefully, and Nino puts his phone down, a little unsettled about what exactly Aiba thought was going through his mind.

Nino shrugs, making a show of being casual. "We'll make him treat next time." It's hard to not be a little annoyed, to be honest – Nino could have spent his morning off immersed in his new game, not bothering to shave or move from his couch. Yet here he was, in the middle of a fashionable little café with too many skylights, sundried tomatoes served in every conceivable fashion – and no Sho. "Do you want to order?"

Aiba hums thoughtfully. "This place seems kind of stuffy," he says. "Do you think it would be rude if we ditched and went for ramen?"

Nino loves Aiba in the moment with a surge of feeling that he would never, ever let show. "I already had a coffee. I think we're covered." 

Aiba grins, dropping a generous tip on the table. "I know a good place a few streets over."

+

Sho is on the couch of their green room when Nino arrives for their show's taping that night. He springs to his feet, face openly apologetic, and Nino cuts him off with a gentle, "It's fine."

Sho frowns, visibly floundering in the face of quick forgiveness. "Things got busy," he says lamely. 

"I know," Nino says, and means it. "So don't worry."

"We should still get together," Sho says. "Drinks after, maybe?"

"Hm," Nino says, weighing Sho's eagerness against the obvious bags under Sho's eyes – he had a location shoot the other day, and was probably getting most of his sleep on commute. And there's Nino's own work, of course – he is hardly unselfish. "Early press conference tomorrow."

Sho slides back onto the couch. "Did you finish casting already?"

"Just today," Nino says. He sits on the arm of the couch, watching Sho carefully to catch his reaction – not his practiced reaction, when he would pull his face into a reflection of whatever emotion Nino seemed to deliver the news with, but the minute flicker of honest surprise that would show before Sho thought to hide it. "Ohno is the lead."

Sho takes a very slow time to react – Nino's watchfulness was a bit wasted, actually. Sho's eyebrows crinkle up in confusion, his mouth also scrunching inwards like he had eaten something that he can't quite name. "Ohno auditioned? He didn't say anything."

"I don't think that he told anyone, actually."

"Oh," Sho stands from the couch, walks over to the coffee maker. It occurs to Nino that he hasn't talked to Sho about Ohno since that day – even the minutest of conversations seemed coloured with awkward remembrance. "Well, that's good, right? You work well together."

Sho's back is to Nino now, but Nino cringes inwardly, and he knows that Sho probably is, too. Not for the first time, he wishes that they hadn't been quite so careless. Everything between himself and Ohno had seemed mysterious, fun, even amusing in its illicitness. Seeing it all through Sho's eyes makes it feel cheap, unprofessional, cliché – and embarrassing.

"Can we talk now, then?" Sho says, and Nino briefly panics before he realizes that they aren't talking about Ohno anymore. Sho passes him a cup of coffee and sit down on the couch again, looking serious. "I want your opinion."

"You're getting married?" Nino guesses, trying to lighten the mood.

Sho rolls his eyes. "Only to my newspaper subscriptions. No, I'm –" he pauses, wetting his lips. "I had a meeting with management. I really want to try for the Lower House elections next year. I feel like it’s my chance. I know it will be inconvenient to everyone, but – "

Nino's heart sinks. He wonders if he's the first one of them who Sho has asked. If not, he wonders what the others said. "How long would you be away?" he asks, stalling.

"If I win? It might be permanent. If I lose, well," Sho stirs his coffee, brisk and factual, but he won't meet Nino's eyes anymore, "I want to know that I have a place to come back to."

Nino toys with the edges of a napkin. It's been years since he has wanted to hit someone this badly. "That's up to management, isn't it?" 

It's not like they hadn't seen this coming. It wasn't that he hadn't expected this – Sho had been talking about it tentatively for the past couple of years; how they were all getting older, how they needed to move forward in new directions, how interested he was in politics and working to change the future of Japan – they all ignored it as best as they could when the topic came up, because no one wanted to talk about what it would mean if Sho actually went through with it. 

"But would you want me back?" Sho asks, "That's what I want to know. I don't care what management says. They can't stop me from doing this now."

"We want you to stay with us." The _we_ is added for weight, to shade the vulnerability of the statement.

Sho finally looks him in the eye. He looks tired, so tired, and Nino almost regrets his words. "I'm sorry."

Nino knows that he's supposed to say _if that's what you want, I'll support you_ or _you should follow your dreams_ , but he can't bring himself to even try to mean it. He can't imagine an Arashi without Sho, without his dumb sloping shoulders and air muscles, without someone to be the willing target of every gag, to do stupid dances with him at concerts. 

"We all knew it couldn't stay the same forever," Sho says pleadingly, and Nino can only nod numbly. 

+

Taping that night is awkward with just the two of them. Nino's retorts are slower than usual, and Sho's laughs are a little too high-pitched and eager. Nino is glad when it's over, and he can slide into the cocoon of the company van, black windows dulling the midnight lights of the city as they slide smoothly by. 

It isn't that Sho loves Arashi less than they do, or he's making this decision lightly – but the fact that he could press ahead despite that is what honestly hurts the most.

Nino is halfway home when he realizes that he never answered Ohno's mail. He pulls out his phone, typing indecisively, backspacing and blanking out the message box more than once.

 _I'll take care of you_ he types, half-sly and half-serious. He attaches a picture of the city lights blurred by motion. Ohno is free to read whatever he wants into it, he decides, and slides his phone back into his pocket, feeling reasonably cheerful. He couldn't give a fuck.

He dozes against the window until he arrives at home, stumbles half-awake into the elevator, and hits all of the corners of his apartment in the dark on the way to bed. He needs to brush his teeth and get undressed, but he just lies still for awhile, a hand on his chest as it rises and falls with every breath. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he sits up, digs around for it. The name scrolling on the lit-up screen seems to flash impatiently, demanding to be picked up. Nino groans.

"It's too late for this, J."

"Come drinking with me," Jun says, not even bothering to phrase it as a question. "I'll pick you up in fifteen."

"Why don't you bother Toma? I have to sleep."

"Toma is too busy being a disgusting newlywed, and besides," There's a pause, and Nino thinks he can detect a flicker of strain in Jun's voice, "I need to talk to _you_."

Nino rubs a hand across his face, but he's already standing up and walking back towards his front door. "Is this about Sho?"

Jun sighs. "He talked to you already, didn't he?"

"I'll be waiting outside the door. You'd better get me home before I turn into a pumpkin." Nino ends the call, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

Jun's new car is clunky and box-like, so black that Nino has to squint to see if it is actually a car sitting on the curb in front of his building. It runs quietly, too – battery-powered, barely any noise at all. Inside the tinted windows, Nino sees that the interior is all soft, pale grey leather. 

"Stylish," Nino says, without a hint of irony, and Jun just rolls his eyes. He's too used to being teased about being an aging hipster to take an honest compliment.

"Coffee? Or a bar?" Jun asks, as they slide down the street. Nino wishes he packed his sunglasses – this car seems to demand them, and it's hard not to feel like his own thoughts are too vulnerable with Jun staring at him from behind opaque frames that threaten to swallow up his entire face.

Nino sighs. "You drag me out in the middle of the night to talk about your feelings, and then you make me choose?"

"I'm being courteous. If you don't care, there's an all-night café around the corner."

"I thought you wanted to go drinking."

"I'm in a mood to get smashed, and it's probably not a good idea after all," Jun's fingers are tight on the steering wheel, although his voice stays light.

"I prefer you drunk to caffeinated," Nino says.

The café is close, and more importantly, it's almost deserted. Jun leads him to an overstuffed sofa set in a tiny upstairs loft. Nino settles on tea, while Jun orders a latte. 

"I don't mean to be so dramatic about this," Jun says, after the waitress leaves the loft. "Sorry for dragging you out."

 _Now you apologize?_ , Nino wants to say, but hell, they are adults. He should at least try to have a conversation that isn't rooted in uncomfortable sarcasm. "It's all right, J. It's about Arashi."

"I can't believe he's serious about this," Jun picks at a napkin, folding the edges. "I mean, fine, I'm sure he'd be a great politician. It's admirable that he's trying to do something like this. It's just –"

"We need him," Nino says.

"Of course we do." Nino's tea arrives, and they fall silent until the waitress descends the staircase again, cheeks bright pink. 

"She recognizes us," Jun says, as Nino takes a sip of his tea. "We've got about twenty minutes before her friends descend on this place."

"What happened to not being dramatic?" Nino says. "We're not that famous anymore, anyways."

"Have you forgotten about that scandal last year when that babysitter tried to sell Aiba's underwear online?"

"Of course I do. It was _my_ underwear."

Jun's latte arrives with a lopsided milkfoam heart floating on top. 

"Thank you," Jun says, looking sincerely grateful at the appearance of caffeine. The waitress practically melts down the staircase, leaving them in peace.

"About Sho," Nino says, while Jun stirs his coffee, destroying the clumsy little heart. "Should we try to stop him? If all of us tell him –"

"Ohno already told him that it was okay." 

That was – not good news, but not surprising. Ohno was the kind of person who acted on his instincts. He had learned, over the years, how to be considerate and work for consensus, but he was always direct and honest with his opinions.

"Aiba –" Jun leans back, cradling his coffee cup in his hands. "I don't know if he knows yet. We can pretty much guess how he'll swing. I don't think Sho is ready for that yet."

This whole thing is just ridiculous. "We can't stop him, then." 

Jun laughed. "You think that's why I called you? Have you ever met anyone more stubborn than him?"

"Then why _did_ you call me?"

Jun clears his throat. "Want more tea? A beer?"

"No. I want you to stop being a drama queen, and let me know what you're thinking."

"Fine," Jun sighed. "I know it's not for only us to decide, but do you think – do you think we can continue without him? As Arashi?"

The answer is too clear. "No."

Jun looks satisfied, but not happy. "That's what I thought, too."

"On second thought, I do want a beer," Nino says. And then, "Damn. Aiba is going to kill all of us."

Jun laughs. "He should be glad for some extra free time. He has his own problems to deal with."

"And what will you do?"

"Work with the juniors, or somewhere in the company, I guess. I'm pretty good at organizing things. I could act, but –" Jun smiles wryly, "I'm pretty sick of getting the same roles."

The waitress's friends never materialize, and they stagger out of the café about an hour later. 

The drive home is quiet. They're both tired, of course. It's a quarter past two, and Nino can already feel that he is not going to feel pleasant in the morning. Nothing new, really.

"I'm sorry," Jun says suddenly, low and sincere.

"For what?"

"Well, for dragging you out – I knew there wasn't any hope, but," Jun drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "I just didn't like turning it over and over again in my own head."

Nino shuts his eyes. "If there was some way we could convince him –" He is not ready for Arashi to be over. He is greedy for more – more years together, more stupid variety shows. He knows exactly where he belongs, and he wants it all; wrinkles, falling popularity, everything.

"He wouldn't be happy," Jun says. "If he can consider leaving, then it's already over. Still – he says he wants to come back later." 

"Selfish bastard," Nino grumbles. "You can just drop me at the corner here."

Jun pulls to the side of the curb smoothly. "Good luck tomorrow."

"It'll be fine." All Nino wants right now is his bed, his pillow, and the assurance that his alarm clock won't bother him for at least three hours.

"Kazu –" There's a hint of hesitation in Jun's voice. "Thank you." 

Nino ducks his head to hide his smile. He has such a soft spot for Jun in his most vulnerable, honest moments. "There's always blackmail."

"Letting go isn't easy," Jun says, obviously resigned now. "But maybe it's the right thing to do, after all."

It isn't, and they both know it. The only thing that has ever been fixed was that they are five. The minute that changes, anything else can change. 

+

The one thing that is necessary to understand about the entertainment industry is that everything has a spin.

More simply put, nothing can ever be taken at surface value. Every move and decision you make is subject to extensive scrutiny and speculation about your _real_ motives, even when you act in complete sincerity.

There was no escape from this; the only viable strategy is to control the process – that is, to create the spin before the media manages to. Usually this is not a particularly difficult thing, but mostly a matter of carefully-written news releases, thoroughly scripted press conferences, and instilling a healthy fear of retribution in upstart reporters. Most of the press is honestly complacent or lazy enough to accept the spin that they are given.

Nothing that Arashi does is uncalculated – well, that isn't entirely true. Of course they are spontaneous as often as they can get away with it – but that doesn't mean that there isn't someone in the background making the call about what to air, what is appropriate for their image, and what they should do next.

Maybe Nino has just been around too long, but he's rather numb to the whole process. Not that he's entirely cynical – he realizes that they all calculate their moves because it is expected of them, and because it makes it easier for everyone. 

If you can control the spin, you can keep things from spinning entirely out of control.

Ohno arrives later than Nino for the press conference. He comes to greet Nino in his green room before the pre-conference meeting, trailed by his manager and the movie's making-of camera crew. 

"Let's work hard together." Ohno bows deeper than his typical hunched dip, the usual formalities coming out in a clear, strong voice that is so unlike Ohno's characteristic mumble. 

It hasn't really struck Nino, until that moment, that this was the dynamic that they were now expected to play. They had always been equals, and he had not even considered how things might change. He really should have thought about it. 

He returns Ohno's bow and greetings properly, knowing full well that they aren't meant for either of them. 

They are left alone after the initial greetings, with Nino's manager following Ohno's out to check on some schedule changes. Nino sits back down on the couch where he had been sitting, feeling somewhat uncertain. Ohno is still near the doorway.

"Have a seat," Nino says, "They won't need us for awhile. Have you had breakfast?"

Ohno nods, making his way over the couch. He drops down beside Nino with little preamble, and that makes Nino feel more relieved that he could have imagined. "Some toast. I didn't think that you would really choose me," he says.

Nino is used to the somewhat random mental leaps that Ohno is prone to making, and he is able to connect the dots. "You were good. Besides, when have I ever missed a chance to make you do what I want?" he jokes.

Humour was probably the wrong way to go. Ohno is being serious in his own way, but he can only see that now. "Why did you choose me?"

"I chose you because I wanted to," Nino says, "I want this movie to be amazing."

"The press will think – " Ohno says.

"They can say what they want," Nino says indifferently. "It’s my movie."

"It's not just yours," Ohno says. "There are producers. Sponsors. Staff, the crew – "

"I know all of this," Nino cuts him off, starting to feel a little annoyed. "Why are you acting like I'm making a mistake? I know what I'm doing. You could have said 'no' if you thought it was a bad idea."

"It's not," Ohno says, looking down at his hands. "It's – look, it's fine."

"This isn't –" Nino knows that this is the point where he should probably just shut up and let them both marinate in their own awkward half-conclusions, but he isn’t ready to let go of this. "It's not about us, okay? It has nothing to do with that."

It's not the most elegant way to word things, and he probably left entirely too much room for misunderstanding. Nino can't be bothered to fix that right now. He's tired – his talk with Jun had kept his mind tumbling around for far too long after his head had hit the pillow. If he's honest with himself, he's also a bit annoyed at Ohno for supporting Sho's decision.

He can't look directly at Ohno, and he knows they both feel the alarming lack of distance to the edge of a conversation that they have always kept their distance from. Beside him, he feels Ohno shift in his seat, his leg pressingly comfortingly against Nino's. 

"Let's both do our best together, then," Ohno says. 

+

The conference goes smoothly. Having Ohno beside him relaxes Nino almost out of pure reflex. He's always felt somewhat uneasy on individual jobs; having Ohno beside him is a firm anchor to a place where he belongs, an identity that is sure and proven footing. 

He remembers – years and years ago – the flight home from America, feeling uncertain about his return. Would he fit back in? He had been away for longer than he had ever been apart from Arashi before, and he had begun to forget their shape as a group, and how he fit into it. It seemed like such a strange worry now, but he can remember clearly the relief he felt when he was able to click back into place instantly.

Arashi is a place where Nino knows he belongs, where he is wanted and understood. He can't understand how Sho can willingly give that up.

Ohno locks the door of their green room as they file back in, and Nino raises an eyebrow. It's unbelievable to think that they wouldn't be interrupted, but Ohno shrugs and moves towards Nino, shedding his jacket as he goes. "I need to change."

Nino licks his lips, quickly surveying the room; no windows, only the door Ohno locked – there was a security camera in a corner, but there wouldn't be one in the adjacent bathroom. "We have to hurry," he says, surprised by how uneven his voice sounds.

It frightens him how quickly Ohno causes him to lose control.

+

Filming is about vision. It's about attaching meaning to motion. That's what always fascinated Nino about directing – breaking down the significance of each action. He's always been praised for his acting, but people don't really understand how he just lets himself submit to the director's vision. It's the director's job to define the meaning.

That's his job now. The script kept him awake for nights, jotting notes in the margins of each page. The writer wrote harshly, complex emotion and impossible choices on every page. He's got nearly an entire notebook devoted to notes on Ohno's character, Hiromu. 

Hiromu and Ohno's personalities haven't even the faintest trace of overlap, and Nino has to field what seemed to be countless questions in the press conferences and morning variety show of why, of all people, he chose Ohno Satoshi to play this reckless, rude playboy?

To give a full answer would be something that Nino isn't sure he even knows himself. Maybe he really has no good reason. Ohno can _act_ , of course – he will be good. Maybe Nino even just wants to see Ohno pushed like this, become something that seems so unlike him.

One of the ADs whistles when Nino hands over the filming schedule. "A bed scene on the first day? That's harsh."

"Everyone will get to know each other very well," Nino replies, tongue-in-cheek.

He knows that it's demanding, to greet your cast member and then get naked with them – but the scene is a one-night stand, and they are supposed to be strangers, anyway. Nino wants it done fast, so it's startling and awkward, and they have to experience each other in a new way. 

Now, behind the camera, the whole experience is even heavier than he imagined. Seeing Ohno from these angles is both familiar and startling – he's seen Ohno move like this, he's _felt_ it. Yet something feels off. By the fifth take, he can't help but sense that it all looks artificial. 

Ohno's hands are quick, drawing open the actress's blouse in one pull. She clings to him, leaning up for a kiss, and he smiles almost cruelly, pushing her back down on the bed.

One of the cameras moves in to film Ohno's face while he straddles her. He reaches out, runs a finger down her cheek. It's an improvisation, and the actress's breath hitches, eyes widening.

"Cut." Nino is annoyed.

The staff beside him stiffen, but Nino doesn't care. First time, fifth time, this has to go _right_.

Ohno straightens up from the bed. He doesn't seem angry, even though his co-star is visibly shaking under him. "What can I do?"

Nino seriously wants to throw something at him. "You just met each other two hours ago and you don't even know her name. Act like you don't give a fuck – you're making it too personal."

"All right," Ohno says, and he kneels back down on the edge of the bed. "Sorry. Can we try one more time?"

"Let's go, then." Nino says. He moves back behind the camera, avoiding the eyes of the nearby staff as he settles back in his chair. This isn't the kind of director he wants to be – he wants to draw out real emotion, not force and squeeze and pinch it out. 

When they finally break mid-morning, Nino slouches into his 'office' to find Aiba on his sofa, sitting cross-legged, long limbs tucked under each other awkwardly, hugging a bundle of colorful material.

As Nino enters, a tiny face emerges from the bundle, and all he sees is a wide, baby-toothed smile before he's got twenty pounds of toddler topped by a fuzzy Doraeman hat launched at him.

"Kazu-ojisan," Mami crows happily, arms flung as far as they will go around Nino's neck.

"Hey!" Nino puts on a scowl, but Mami knows him well enough to pay him no mind. 

Nino bounces Mami gently up and down, surveying Aiba. He's smiling at Mami trying to grab Nino's hair, but that smile looks somewhat wobbly. 

"Any reason you've decided to take over my couch?" Nino asks, settling down on a cushion with Mami tucked against his chest, playing with his jacket buttons.

Aiba makes another effort at a smile, but it collapses and fades, corners of his mouth dipping down. "Sho-chan called."

Nino clears his throat. Part of him is strangely grateful that Aiba would seek him out first. Of course, they've always been together – but sometimes Aiba is just as likely to go to Ohno or Jun, or even Sho when he needs to talk. If he comes to Nino, it means he wants the truth, and he doesn't care about being comforted. "Well, we might as well retire before we all need hip replacements anyways." It's a flippant response, but what the hell else is he supposed to say?

"It’s our nineteenth year, Nino," Aiba says, and there's a faint crack in his voice. " _Nineteen years_."

"You want him to wait another year before he breaks up the group?" Mami is clearly getting bored of the conversation, and decided to fall asleep in his lap instead. He shifts her carefully so he can move closer to Aiba. 

"It's not that," Aiba says miserably. "I know he's talked about this for awhile, but – I didn't think he was serious."

"It's going to happen," Nino says bluntly. "I talked with J. – about if we should continue or not."

Aiba shook his head. "We can't. I won't."

"I know." Nino patted the top of Mami's hair fondly. "That's it, then. Time to work on the next generation Arashi."

"I've done my part," Aiba protests, his smile coming back. "When are you going to get laid instead of just making people do it on camera for your sick fantasies?"

That reminds Nino. "Leader was totally useless during his sex scene today."

"Can't you tell him to work from memory?" Aiba grins. "Or maybe you can work with him privately."

Nino wonders, not for the first time, exactly how much Aiba knows – or suspects. "Too much work," he decides, standing up. "Here, take your kid and get out of here. Too many naked people wandering around."

Aiba lets Nino pass him Mami, cradling her against his chest. "Work hard, then," he says, squeezing Mami tightly, as if to hug Nino by proxy.

Nino lets them out, pulling out his phone once Aiba is out of sight. 

"You fucking bastard," he says, once Sho picks up.

"I love you too, Nino," comes Sho's patient reply

Nino takes a breath. He hadn't realized how _angry_ he was; how much he had held back when Aiba was still in the room. "Can we meet – tonight, maybe? Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow night – " Sho says tentatively, "For drinks?" He sounds nervous, and with good reason – Nino has _never_ called any of them out before on his own accord. 

"Fine. Come over to my place."

"Hey," Sho protests, "Why do you get to be the lazy one?"

"Because you still owe me for standing me up at lunch," Nino points out. "Don't worry about bringing drinks," he concedes graciously.

"Fine," Sho doesn't sound thrilled, but Nino supposes that he had presented this more as an order than an invitation. "I'll be there around midnight, okay?"

As Nino ends the call, he realizes that his hands are shaking – he's angry on Aiba's behalf, on Arashi's behalf. He doesn't even know what he's planning to say to Sho. He's no good at this sort of thing. 

"Nino?" Ohno stands uncertainly in the open doorway. He's still missing his shirt, and clutching his script in one hand. 

Nino realizes that he is sprawled across his couch, staring blankly at his phone. "Hey," he says, snapping back into himself, "This is a classy place. You can't show off your nipples here."

Ohno smiles, intruding anyways and crowding against Nino on the couch. "My nipples are very fancy."

Nino steals a glance at the open doorway, and then decides he doesn't give a fuck anyways. He tweaks one of Ohno's nipples, pleased to feel it harden under his touch. "Very fancy, indeed," he declares, and Ohno snorts.

"Are you mad at me?" Ohno asks. He settles back so that Nino can lie down with his head on Ohno's leg.

"No," Nino says truthfully. "It's not your fault you can't seduce anyone. You're just helplessly unsexy."

Ohno's mouth curves into a smirk. "Are you asking me to prove you wrong?"

"Well," Nino says. "Aiba did say it was my responsibility as director to help you over these sort of difficulties. I'm a little busy, but – "

Ohno slips his hand into Nino's hair, tugging gently. "I would really appreciate it, Director Ninomiya," he says, voice low and sweet.

It would be so easy, Nino thinks regretfully, to steal a few minutes of break; to let Ohno pin him down on the couch and – he can't be that irresponsible, though.

"Come over tonight," he says finally, and he enjoys seeing Ohno's eyes widen slightly. He's never invited Ohno over, never been to Ohno's place either. Their relationship has largely been conducted in the neutral spaces of hotel rooms, break rooms, and the most romantic of storage closets. This might be a rash move, but he can regret it later. He can hardly risk being caught fucking his lead in his own office. "I can show you what to do."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhh...this keeps growing, and this part didn't fit too well with what comes next, so I'm putting it in as a chapter on its own.

Sometimes it catches up to Nino: the absurdity of it all. It's just ridiculous to think that here they are; that here is Ohno, confident hands running surely over Nino's skin.

Sometimes, Nino thinks as he bites his lip, his cock growing harder in Ohno's hand, sometimes he thinks this is easier than it ought to be.

Ohno's skin is warm, radiating heat against Nino as they kiss, as he pushes Nino back down against the bed. Having Ohno on top of him, fully sprawled out – it's not new, but it seems like such a contrast to the scenery of his bedroom. 

He's never, he realizes hazily, really spent this much time staring at his ceiling as he has now, while Ohno lazily sucks him off. It's not like Nino can really concentrate on the ceiling in the circumstances, but it's reminding him that things don't always make sense out of context. This is out of context – Ohno kneeling on his mattress with Nino in his mouth, his cock hard and leaking against Nino's sheets. 

Nino had suggested this so casually, and it's bothering him more than he had thought it would. 

"You okay?" Nino is so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even notice Ohno sitting back, lips slick with spit and precome. 

"Hm? Yeah." Nino props himself up on his elbows. He feels strangely naked – well, he is naked, after all, legs spread artlessly around Ohno crouched between them. There's no one around, and there's no time limit. It reminds Nino of the time that they finally went out for dinner, just the two of them for the first time, and neither of them knew what to talk about. 

Ohno runs a hand up the inside of Nino's thigh, fingers stopping inches from his cock. He slides his hand down, until his finger is circling against the taut pucker of Nino's hole. "I seem to remember something about sexy lessons."

Nino sucks in a breath as Ohno's finger twists into him experimentally. He's too tight for Ohno to get in far without lube, but the burn of Ohno's finger pushing in and stretching him slightly is just right. "You're coming along nicely," he says lightly. 

"I don't know," Ohno shifts his weight so he's closer to Nino, forcing Nino's hips back up a bit so he can get better access. "I thought there would be a little more audience participation."

"You watch too much porn," Nino replies, but it's getting harder to speak, with Ohno's second finger pushing into him now, and Ohno's eyes hot and dark, watching him spread his legs wider. "And you fuck stupid girls who think they need to moan to encourage you."

Ohno grins, fingers drawing back, and Nino nearly lets out an embarrassing whine at the loss. 

"I think I can make you moan," Ohno says thoughtfully, sliding off the bed and rifling through his bag.

"Worth a try," Nino agrees, privately vowing to not make a single noise. It isn't that he doesn't think Ohno could do it; he's pretty sure that Ohno can do things to him that would have him moaning and begging like the cheapest porn soundtrack. He wants to make Ohno work for it, though. 

Ohno settles back onto the bed, twisting the cap off a tube of lube. Nino makes himself comfortable back against the pillows, keeping his knees apart. His cock is achingly hard, but he deliberately keeps his hands at his sides.

"Would it be better to fuck you hard?" Ohno asks conversationally, sliding a finger back into Nino. It slides in easily this time, coated with lube, slick and cool. "Or should I go slow?"

Nino closes his eyes, willing himself not to come right then and there as Ohno adds in a second, then a third finger, stretching and scissoring Nino open. "Consider it an etude," he says as dryly as he can manage. "Improvise."

"You should watch," Ohno says reproachfully. He grips Nino's hips, hooking Nino's knees around his hips. Nino can feel him lining himself up against him, ready to push in. "How else can you tell me if I'm doing it right?"

This is why there is no way he can win with Ohno. Nino cracks his eyes open, only to find Ohno's face unnervingly close. 

"I said sexy, not creepy," Nino snaps, but there's no real bite to it.

Ohno chuckles, leaning forward to kiss him. It's a lazy kiss, no real heat or impatience, and it's barely enough to distract Nino from Ohno's slow, rocking thrusts into him, his cock filling and stretching Nino in a way that was absolutely perfect.

" _Fuck_ ," Nino breathes, rolling his hips up to meet Ohno's, their rhythm slowly gaining momentum, "Ah, fuck, this…"

"Moaning," Ohno reminds him.

"Those are still words," Nino retorts, frustrated with his own loss of control.

"Great words," Ohno agrees. He adjusts his grip as one of Nino's legs nearly slides off his hip as he starts to move faster. "You should touch yourself, Kazu."

Nino bites his lip, fingers knotting themselves into the sheets. "You should stop framing your dirty talk as helpful suggestions."

Ohno's smile widens at the new challenge. "Would you please fuck your hand?" he requests, sweet and polite.

Nino's cock is hot and rock-stiff, brushing against his stomach with every thrust of Ohno's hips. He wraps a hand around himself, trying to hold in a hiss. He feels strangely vindicated by the way Ohno's movements stutter as he watches Nino work himself slowly, slow, strong tugs, his fingers slickly wet with precome.

"Better?" he manages to choke out, as Ohno starts going faster, gripping Nino's hips hard enough to leave marks as he slams into Nino and pulls back. Nino can barely keep a grip on himself, hand slipping as he pumps himself faster. 

"Nino," Ohno says, voice uneven and breathless, demanding. "Watch."

He doesn't want to – or rather, he _does_ , but he's so goddamn close. Against his better judgement, his eyes track down from Ohno's face to where their bodies are joined. Ohno deliberately slows himself down so Nino can feel every inch of him inside, can see the smooth glide of Ohno's cock pulling back and disappearing back in.

As a director, he can't help but appreciate the line of sight. The moan escapes him before he even realizes it, and he comes hard, all over his hand and stomach.

Ohno laughs triumphantly. "Got you," he says, sounding rather pleased with himself.

Nino lifts his hips off the bed, clenching as tightly as he can around Ohno. "Got you back," he says smugly, as Ohno groans in surprise. Nino grinds up against him, and it feels like only seconds before Ohno grunts against him, rhythm faltering in favour of sharp, quick thrusts that take Nino's breath away. 

It's a little awkward, after, but Nino pretends that he knows what he's doing, and that false confidence carries him through. He can't tell if Ohno is acting, or if he truly feels at ease crawling back into Nino's bed after showering, shifting to spoon around Nino's back. 

This is a different kind of intimacy than Nino is used to; it's not about lust or getting off, or even some strange sort of sexual convenience. Ohno is solid and warm behind him, and his arms slip easily around Nino, settling over his heart.

"How was it?" Ohno asks, tweaking Nino's nipples absently.

"Well, you definitely sucked less," Nino says lightly.

"I wouldn't say that," Ohno says cheerfully, and Nino is forced to roll over and hit him. "Ow!"

"Seriously," Nino says, propping up his head on one hand so he can see Ohno, "Have you never just fucked someone for the hell of it? It's like you're overthinking everything."

There's a long silence.

"You mean – in the movie?" Ohno asks tentatively, and Nino wants to hit him again.

"Yes, in the movie," he snaps. The conversation was rapidly heading into dangerous territory, and this was probably not the place or time for it. Or rather – maybe it was, but Nino couldn't handle it. "Katsushima's character – "

"Doesn't stay that way," Ohno interrupts. He scratches his nose, appearing to gather his thoughts. "I mean – when I read the script, I thought – the whole point is that he's wrong, isn't it? He's afraid of love, and he doesn't know how to be with someone like that. He keeps fucking people, but he knows that he's missing something. That's what I was thinking. I just – maybe it didn't come across right."

It made sense, Nino realizes, and this was why he had picked Ohno, wasn't it? Even when he looked like he was barely paying attention, Ohno thought more deeply about things than most people would. Nino is starting to feel embarrassed for yelling at him on set.

"He knows it's wrong," Ohno continues, whispering even though there's no one to overhear. He lazily traces a finger across Nino's chest, eyes unfocused and dropping sleepily. "And that breaks through, sometimes. I think – " Ohno yawns, hand falling to rest against Nino's heart. "He realizes it, even if he doesn't want to admit it. That he wants to love."

There's a lump in Nino's throat, and he is suddenly, intensely grateful that Ohno can barely keep his eyes open, because he's not sure he could meet them.


	3. Chapter 3

Sho is early, for once. Nino had gotten home unexpectedly early, and had taken the time to tidy up his apartment. By the time Sho arrives, Nino is already slouched on the couch with a beer, listening to the newly-washed sheets tumble in the dryer, expunging any evidence of Ohno's presence last night. 

They both politely go through the motions of guest slippers and unpacking the bag of drinking snacks and shochu that Sho had brought, so it isn't really awkward until they both settle down around Nino's coffee table, drinks in hand and the silence stretching out uncomfortably.

"So," Nino says finally. "You've told everyone, then."

Sho nods, eyes fixed on the coffee table. "It was harder than I thought."

In his mind, Nino can picture each encounter – private, separate. It hadn't occurred to him before that Sho must have decided to not tell them all together. Could they have worn him down as a group? 

"You're going to go ahead with it?"

"There's going to be a press conference after the New Year," Sho says, still not meeting Nino's eyes. "Management is planning for us all to meet next week to work out – the transition."

Nino snorts with laughter. He can't help it; he can just imagine what that meeting would be like, and he'd rather attend a new-half bikini party than sit through it. "Transition – to what?"

Sho fusses with his coaster, wiping away water rings dripped from his glass onto the wood of Nino's coffee table. "Well, I don't know," he says, voice edged with irritation. "That's for you guys to figure out, isn't it?"

Something inside of Nino is on the edge of snapping. "Does Arashi really mean that little to you?"

"You wanted to leave once, too," Sho finally looks directly at him. He looks more tired than angry. "I thought that you, of all people, would understand."

"It's not the same," Nino says. He's not the type to get angry easily, but he can feel his frustration boiling up in him. "We've come this far –"

"It will take time," Sho interrupts him. "I'm not saying it won't. Still – things change. Almost all of the groups around us have changed over the years. It was tough, but they survived – they've gotten stronger."

"You actually think we're going to continue without you?" Nino snaps back. "We aren't even going to try. You leave, that's it. You know that."

Sho looks away, lips drawn together. "I don't want that."

"Then don't leave," Nino says flatly. It's as close to begging as he's going to get.

"Nino," Sho says gently, and seems to hesitate. "I can't. Not now. It's done, all right? Just because I'm leaving now doesn't mean I don't love Arashi. It's just – it's time to move on."

Nineteen years ago, Nino and Sho both agreed that it was time to leave, and they had nearly done so. Ohno had thought about leaving, too, Nino remembers – much more recently, too. Even though he hadn’t said so until their fifteenth anniversary, he had held those thoughts inside him for years. Is it the same for Sho – does he feel like he wants to run away?

"Can I ask you something?" Sho asks, startling Nino out of his thoughts. 

Nino takes a sip of his beer, evaluating Sho. "About what?" 

"You and Leader," Sho seems to be having a hard time getting his words out. "I saw you once, right? Together."

Nino picks at the label of his beer bottle, but he's looking at Sho from underneath his eyelashes. His expression is neutral, inscrutable. "You think about that?"

It might be just his imagination, but Sho's cheeks seem to flare into colour. "I wanted to know – are you two just fucking around, or is it," Sho searches for words. "Something serious? Something more?"

Nino shakes his head. "It's not like it's a regular thing," he says, surprisingly direct. "Sometimes it just happens. Neither of us really talk about it."

"That's all?" Sho asks.

"Yeah, I guess. Does it matter?" Can't hurt to lob the bomb back into Sho's court.

"No. It's just," Sho taps his fingers on the table restlessly. "If you're holding back – because of Arashi – "

"It's not like that," Nino says, and he's not lying. Still, an image of a sleepy-eyed Ohno in his bed rises to mind instantly, and his traitorous mind taunts _You wouldn't mind this every day, would you?_

He pours himself more beer, hoping that his ears aren't as flushed as they feel. "Besides, Arashi has never held us back. Any of us," he clarifies. "I don't get why you're not seeing that."

"I do," Sho says softly. "Nino, you know – this isn't easy. I hate that I'm doing this. But still – "

"There's nothing I can do, right?" Nino says, leaning back against the couch and pulling up his knees to his chest. "You won't change your mind?"

Sho seems to hesitate for a second, and then shakes his head. "I know it's selfish, but I'm asking you guys to trust me. This is for the best." 

_Bullshit_ , Nino thinks, and he's about to voice his opinion just so, but – 

A closer look at Sho stops him. Sho is clearly _torn_. He's got that caged, desperate look he used to get when he had to choose between studying or getting a couple of hours of sleep. 

He doesn't really want this, Nino realizes. So why…?

Sho loved Arashi, just as they all did. If he truly thought this was for the best – that meant he thought that him staying in Arashi would make things worse somehow. 

"What are you trying to hide?" Nino says finally, trying to make his voice calm and coaxing. 

Sho immediately stiffened up. He was such a good actor, Nino thought fondly, except he was best at overreaction and mania, not subtlety. 

"Nothing," Sho says, voice unreasonably cheerful. "I want another drink. Do you want one?"

"Yes," Nino says pleasantly. "I do."

Sho's shoulders deflate with relief until Nino adds, "Because you aren't leaving until you tell me what the fuck is going on, and that might take some more alcohol."

"There's nothing," Sho protests. "I'm doing this because – "

"Did you knock someone up?"

" _Nino_."

He remembers Sho's face, the way he carefully looked away when he asked about him and Ohno. "Are you gay?"

The question seems to hit Sho like a bullet, his shoulders sinking down with the force. His eyes dart sideways, as if to make sure no one else is listening. "I'm not –" 

"My second question," Nino continues, making sure to hold Sho's gaze. "Why do you think we would mind either way?"

Sho laughs bitterly. "Of course you wouldn't."

"But I do mind – if that's why you've decided you don't need Arashi anymore."

Sho gets to his feet, grimacing as his knees creak with the effort. "You can think whatever you want," he says briskly. "It's late. I'm going home."

"Fine," Nino says, not bothering to get up. They're not seventeen anymore, and Nino can't forcibly pin him down and tickle the truth out of him. 

"Nino, it's not –" Nino looks up, startled to see Sho hovering uncertainly near the couch. "It's not that I don't need you guys. I – I think you're better off without me. The best would be if you guys could go on. At the meeting, we'll figure something out, I'm sure."

"Don't be stupid." Nino is pissed. "I won't be there, so you do what you like."

It probably wasn't that mature to pull the 36-year old equivalent of a temper tantrum, Nino reflected, as he ignored Sho's quiet goodbye, pouring himself another glass of shochu. Still, if Sho hadn't been interested in telling him the truth, there was no reason for him to play nice either.

+

Nino is vicious on set the next day. They re-do one scene eighteen times before Ohno just walks off set.

Nino can barely keep his temper in check, but he knows he's in the wrong. He wanders through the maze of sets to find Ohno sitting on a tall stool in the middle of a bar set, mindlessly tracing a finger across the wood grains of the bar.

Nino slides onto the stool next to him. "Buy you a drink?"

Ohno huffs out a breath, not meeting Nino's eyes, clearly not wanting to play along. "Do you want me to quit?"

_Shit_. Nino grips Ohno's elbow. "It's my fault," he says urgently. "You get that, right?"

Ohno's frown softens, but he looks stubborn. "If I'm not acting properly, then the whole project won't work."

"You are good," Nino protests, and he realizes that it's true; if anything, it's his vision that's at fault. He's trying to push Ohno to show something that he can't possibly understand or see, because it only exists in his mind. "I – I'll try harder. I really want you in this movie, Oh-chan."

Ohno finally looks up at him, eyes tired. "Kazu," he says, reaching up to squeeze at Nino's hand on his elbow. "You need to tell me what you need." It's as close to a rebuke as Ohno will get.

It's entirely fair, too; it's just up to Nino to realize it for himself what that is.


End file.
